05/26/2025
This was March 2020. I hadn’t seen my baby in a couple of days, the kids were with their granny while I was running around getting ready to bury my husband.
I had on my “uniform” in those days. Blue Bandana and a Tommy crossbody with a g***k inside. It took me about 6 months post loss to take off my uniform.
I remember I held her and cried this day. So little, innocent, no idea of the life that was happening around her. Just a beautiful being of happiness and joy.
My baby will never have her own memories of her daddy. She’ll always long for a man to protect and love her the way only a father can. And I know that pain, and the decisions it can lead to bc I too was a little brown girl without a father there loving and protecting me - and it led me to choose men who I felt safe with. To ignore love bombing as a red flag but instead appreciating it so much bc I never had it.
This is a cycle that I sacrificed a life to break. My blood, sweat and tears went into breaking cycles of poverty and single parenthood and yet here I am, here she is. Carrying the same burdens of her mother. But instead of an absent father who has a choice to change, her father was stolen from her. From us.
We all reap what we sow. Except me, I sowed intentionality and strategy and now I reap pain, loneliness and struggle.
I pray my daughter breaks the cycle of single parenthood in our family. I pray she chooses her partner from a place of abundance and not deficit. I pray she always knows God and her daddy are loving and protecting her in ways we couldn’t even imagine.
I am a Street Widow. And my daughter is a Street Seed. The rose WILL grow from the concrete again, Lord willing 🙏🏾 AASHĀ
